The right moment
by solveariddle
Summary: Hotch realizes that he can't let the darkness in his life wear him out any longer and that he wants to be happy again. All he needs to do now is convince Emily that she's the one for him.


**A/N: ONESHOT with spoilers for all seasons.**

**Hotch smiles more this season and that made me realize that he somehow lost his smile and happiness along the way. And I wanted him to notice that and to understand what it takes to retrieve happiness insert H/P. Sounds a bit sappy. Nevertheless the beginning of the story is pretty dark until... but read for yourself.**

**R&R please !**

**Disclaimer: No infringement intended. Criminal Minds belongs to CBS.**

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><p>There was a time when Aaron Hotchner believed in the right moment.<p>

The right moment to marry.

The right moment for his promotion as Unit Chief of the BAU.

The right moment to be a father.

Looking back he can't pinpoint when it started, when the darkness started to seep into his life slowly but steadily. For a long time he has been denying that his job was the reason for it, but he is over that. These days he knows that his job was the cause and has accepted it finally. It doesn't make things easier though.

There are no right moments anymore.

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><p><em>Promise me that you'll tell our son how you used to make me laugh<em>, Haley told him, begged him in tears, before she died, was killed brutally and meaninglessly by a man who wanted to hurt him, not her. A wasted life because of the decisions he had made, because of the darkness he had let near his family. Most of this day is a blur in his memory and mercifully so. However her words linger until today. When did he stop laughing? Does he waste his life and the life of his son, too?

Did he stop laughing when Elle, a former member of his team, was attacked, almost killed and couldn't handle it, shot an unsub later in pretended self-defense and then quit? Or when Gideon's girlfriend was slaughtered? When Reid was abducted and tortured?

Hotch accounts himself guilty in all these cases. Guilty of not realizing that Elle wouldn't be able to handle the situation properly, was still too traumatized. Guilty that they didn't catch the sadistic serial killer who slaughtered Gideon's girlfriend faster. Guilty that he and the whole team had to watch helplessly how Reid was tortured and forced to choose one of them to die. And these cases were only the tip of the iceberg. Hotch knows that it is one his flaws to take things too personally beneath his professional and stoic facade. He can't save the world. He couldn't even save his team or his family from being exposed to evil. Yet this is the simple reason why he joined the FBI and eventually became Unit Chief. He wants to save and to protect people, wants to make a difference.

But even if they manage to catch serial killers, they will never be able to catch the darkness that surrounds them. It slips through their fingers like water and enters their dreams at night. And once you reached out and touched this darkness willingly – saw the bloody crime scene, invaded the head of a murderer to explore what is going on in this twisted mind – there is no way back. The darkness clings to you, and you have to spend the rest of your life fighting it so that it doesn't consume you after all.

Hotch always loved his wife, even after they had been divorced. Nevertheless at some point in his life he wasn't able anymore to make her understand. Why it sometimes was more important to him to be out in the field than to spend time with his family. How could he spend a blithe day with his family when he knew that evil was out there and could hurt and tear apart other families any time? He couldn't make Haley understand, and that's when the downward spiral of their marriage started.

So even if there might have been some laughter left inside of him at this time, it was taken from him when Foyet stabbed and deliberately _not_ killed him so that he could experience the agony of having to force his family to go into hiding just to lose them, or at least his ex-wife, anyway.

Hence the quintessence of all this is - why even bother with something so trivial as laughter when all that is waiting for him in the end is pain and another loss?

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><p>Then again Hotch knows that it is not that simple.<p>

There are other team members who suffered a lot and aren't as closed off toward happiness as he is. Garcia was shot and still found her giggly and adorable self again. Reid overcame his addiction and eventually even dealt with Prentiss' presumed death that unsettled him deeply once more. _Prentiss..._ Hotch has been calling her by that name so many years, and yet it sounds unfamiliar these days. Since she allegedly died, she has become Emily to him. _This was about saving Emily, _Hotch told Morgan as an explanation for his decision to fake her death and saw the surprise flicker in the other agent's eyes because in the past he so rarely called her by her first name that this fact combined with his obvious emotional turmoil was unusual.

On some days Hotch allows himself the painful question whether his decision to fake Emily's death wasn't only influenced by his wish to keep her safe but also by his wish to get her out of his life, to get her away from him as far as possible since with her right under his nose there was always the promise of happiness. And Hotch knew where happiness led to – loss and pain. And he just couldn't allow that to happen.

So perhaps he didn't stop laughing because life was too excruciating but because he simply forbade himself to be happy.

In a way it played into his hands, fit the plan to avoid happiness, that with Emily it never was the right moment.

When she joined the team Hotch was highly suspicious of the circumstances and rightfully so as it turned out. The paperwork hadn't been screwed up. Strauss had deliberately put her into play as a mole. A role she later on refused to act upon. All the same in a way Emily had betrayed all of them with her fake FBI background, a cover-up story for her past as an international agent. Not that she had had a choice due to her classified assignments no-one was supposed to know about. A past that went along with her compartmentalization skills and routine in the field much better than the official story of a desk job. Yes, Emily never flinched, as JJ pointed out once. Not when she walked right into the cellar of a serial killer who knocked her out, not when she offered herself to be beaten up badly in place of Reid, and especially not the countless times when she played bait for the unsub without hesitation.

With her Hotch can pinpoint the time when things changed exactly. They changed the day when she resigned, refused to give Strauss any dirt on him or the team. Hotch had felt it before, had been impressed by her speech how she hated politics and the hurt and honesty he had felt in her words. He had needed no more proof of her integrity after that, and yet she gave it to him freely, chose to walk away instead of taking the easy way out – giving Strauss what she wanted and climbing up the ladder of career without any effort.

The attraction always had been there. Right from the beginning. As opposed to what his team might think, he is not neuter. He notices and appreciates beauty. Most of the time, though, it just isn't appropriate to act upon it. Not when there is an attractive female police officer at a crime scene next to a bloody body, not when they have to inform the relatives about a violent death, and a beautiful widow opens the door, and for sure not when the woman he is the most attracted to is his direct subordinate. Therefore it didn't matter that after her resignation and his awareness that Emily Prentiss was a member of his team he could trust blindly, the initially only physical attraction changed into a strong affection. She still was a member of his team and thus could have worn a sign on her forehead that read _don't touch_.

But sometimes Hotch wonders whether his attraction to her isn't a one way ticket, whether Emily is also attracted to him. At least there have been some cracks of affection over the last years in her always professional facade. After New York he had severe hearing problems, and she reached out to touch him and calm him down when it got on top of him. After Foyet she was so concerned about him. This one day when she accompanied him home, and they talked about the case, he felt it, just _knew_ that she wanted to tell him so much more. But he was so full of anger and grief and when she realized it, she didn't go any further and held back whatever she might have been about to say. Then, when his ex-wife was killed, she simply stepped back, kind of disappeared among the crowd of shocked co-workers. Anything else would have been inappropriate. And even if he missed her reassuring presence after a while, he never encouraged her to get back to the closeness they had had in between.

It just never was the right moment.

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><p>Then it happened. It was a case like any other. A day like any other. They all were exhausted and heading to their hotel to get at least a short nap before the next round of interrogations would start the next morning. On the way to their rooms the friendly banter of his team surrounded him like a warming blanket. He rarely participated, and this evening was no exception. Hence he indulged in the feeling more than usual, and suddenly he felt it – the hesitant smile on his face. It was almost weird, as if his muscles didn't know how to handle this mood properly. Then the moment was gone. They all entered their hotel rooms, locked the doors, and Hotch felt as lonely and weary as never before. That night he didn't sleep and when dawn broke, he had come to a conclusion.<p>

What he always had feared had happened – he was wasting his life, and he had to stop it.

From that time on Hotch has been waiting for the right moment, and three weeks later it is there.

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><p>The bullpen is empty except for her as he slowly walks down the stairs to stall for time and make up his mind what to say to her. Of course there is always the option to simply pass her by and wish her a nice evening.<p>

Emily already stands in front of her desk, ready to head out. She just grabs her bag when she sees him, holding her cellphone in her hand. And that's when Hotch remembers... When she disappeared, left the team to fight Ian Doyle on her own to protect all of them, he called her. It was futile – she had left her badge and her cellphone in her desk. When he opened the drawer, he was confronted with her ringing cellphone that showed his name and picture on the display. And he smiled in it. The fact that she had deliberately chosen a picture that was so uncommon for him, and the fact that he is reminded of it now, almost seems to be fateful. He will not simply pass her by and wish her a nice evening.

This scene played out in his mind many times with various words, confessions even, and various endings because he can't tell at all how she will react. Is she even interested in him anymore? Perhaps it's too late. Perhaps he has been waiting for too long.

When Hotch opens his mouth, he doesn't know what he is about to say and is almost as surprised at his words as she is, "Do you remember the day I received my divorce papers?" Of all the things he considered asking or telling her, this definitely wasn't on the list. He remembers that night vividly, but he never considered telling her about it. Until now. _Why not?_ He thinks almost defiantly. _In a way I started to waste my life back then. I should have gone to her, talked to her, instead of... _He realizes that Emily stares at him disbelievingly. At least she didn't grab her bag and ran.

"We were about to have some drinks with the team when..."

"I remember," Emily interrupts him. How could she ever forget that? They had just finished a case and the team wanted to go to a bar, have some drinks and spend a relaxed evening when the divorce papers were handed over to Hotch in front of all of them. A moment as heart-breaking as embarrassing. After that no-one was in the mood anymore to go to a bar. They all just went home.

Except for Hotch. None of them was aware that he all the same went to a bar. But on his own. A range of feelings was fighting inside of him, claiming control over him. Anger. Sadness. Most of all, though, the need to no longer suppress his attraction to another woman. A woman who wasn't his wife or rather his now soon-to-be ex-wife. So why hold back any longer? Why not go and see her, talk to her and await what else would happen? Because that would have meant the end of both of their careers. And as furious and flustered as he was – he wouldn't let that happen.

Hence he went to the bar. It didn't take long, and he was approached by a very attractive woman. She didn't exactly look like Emily but close enough. With dark hair, dark eyes and a tempting smile. Hotch tells Emily all this and becomes aware of the silence in the room when he makes a pause. This time she doesn't interrupt him, doesn't ask a question, only waits what else he has to tell her, what else he has to confess.

Hotch holds her gaze when he continues, "I went home with her. I never cheated on my wife, but..." Out of the corner of his eye he sees her shake her head, no, he is not the type to cheat on his wife, she knows that, he doesn't have to point it out. And even though he technically still was married that night, emotionally his marriage was over.

His voice drops to a whisper, and he steps closer to Emily, supporting himself against her desk, his fingers only centimeters away from hers.

"I told her to leave the lights out so that...," _he could live out his fantasy_ – his whispered voice trails off completely as he remembers how he imagined the other woman to be... her. Hotch can't hold Emily's gaze any longer. He basically just told her that he slept with her that night whereas she wasn't even there. They are standing so close now that he feels her breath on his face when she eventually exhales.

"Why did you never tell me?" she finally asks, and her voice is strong and warm, not irritated or distanced as he feared it would be. His eyes meet hers again. Emily shifts her body slightly so that their fingers almost touch, Hotch can feel the warmth of her skin. He has so many answers. The only one that counts, though, is that she was his subordinate. Still is. It was as impossible back then as it is now. It's him who has changed. Albeit he still obeys the rules, he is willing to bend them, to find a way out if it means that they can be together.

When her eyes suddenly drop to her fingers, Hotch realizes that he tenderly caresses her hand. Apparently this distracts her enough so that she no longer expects an answer. Instead she has another question.

"Did it happen again?" This catches Hotch by surprise. Perhaps it is a stab in the dark. Perhaps she really knows him so well. And that would be scary.

Her hand grabs his fingers and holds on to them. This time she holds his gaze unwaveringly. "Did it?"

It's not like he didn't want it to happen again. It had been liberating to live out a fantasy. On the other hand sleeping with another woman to fulfill his desire for Emily couldn't be the solution. People would get hurt. Above all the nameless woman he used to fulfill his fantasy, and he wasn't about to do that.

But then it happened again. Hotch found himself in a situation that was emotionally so challenging that he needed an outlet. Ian Doyle almost killed Emily, and they decided to fake her death to save her. She was gone, and suddenly the urge to be close to her was so overwhelming that Hotch thought about repeating an encounter similar to the one years before.

"Yes," he admits hoarsely only to correct himself hastily. "No... I mean... When you... were in Europe." It's too difficult to say out loud that she almost died. She has to deal with that trauma, but he still deals with it, too. "It almost happened again, but I couldn't go through with it. I was..." _too emotionally involved, too entangled in his feelings – _he doesn't end the sentence. He already was at a bar again, had had some drinks when he realized that it wouldn't work. A surrogate wouldn't be enough this time. He wanted the real deal or nothing. "I couldn't do it," he finally simply says. "Didn't want to do it. I only would have missed you even more."

There is a pause in which Hotch looks at her scrutinizingly. Emily avoids his gaze, obviously struggles what to say next; most likely she doesn't even know at the moment how to make sense out of what he just told her.

"I never thought I could be flattered when a man tells me that he slept with another woman," she then says, searching his gaze again. "But I am, flattered I mean, even if..." Hotch can literally see the confusion take over when she continues to speak. "God... Hotch..." Her eyes darken in pain. "All these years... Why did you never tell me?" So she didn't forget about her question and that he still owes her an answer.

"Why now?" Emily insists. "Why tell me now and not anytime in the past?"

"Because it never was the right moment," Hotch responds briefly and succinctly.

"So what changed that now _is_ the right moment?" She can be pushy at times. However she has a right to be like that just now.

It would be too difficult and would take all night to explain how he forbade himself happiness and decided not to waste his life any longer.

"It's still not the right moment," Hotch says instead and sees surprise flicker in her eyes. "But you are the one for me. And I don't want to wait any longer."

If they stepped any closer, they would end up in an embrace. Hotch looks at her face, her lips, and all of a sudden pictures of his encounter with the other woman flash through his mind save that it's Emily's face this time. He inhales sharply, and his hand finds her face, touches it tenderly.

"I can't wait any longer," he repeats, and it takes a great amount of strength to suppress the quiver in his voice. Want. Unease. Anticipation. He thought he saw it in her eyes moments ago – the relief to eventually give in to this long suppressed need, the feelings for him that go way beyond professional. Why doesn't she say something, _anything_, then? What if she backs off?

"Hotch..." The moment he sees her lips move and hears his name, he is certain that she will tell him to forget about it, to go home alone.

"Perhaps we can take this discussion to a bar," he says to interrupt her, to block the words he fears to hear from her. Screw dinner. He wants a drink and then feel her lips. But most of all he doesn't want his fantasy to end here and now.

"Hotch..." Emily's voice again. Stronger this time. Then she grabs his hand that still caresses her face and whispers, "Why don't we skip the bar and go to my apartment?"

He holds his breath. Did she really just say that? Apparently she did because she leans over, and they melt, her lips brushing against his at first gently and hesitantly only to open up to him when he increases the pressure.

This is so much better than a fantasy.

Never has a wrong moment felt so right.

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><p><strong>The end<strong>


End file.
